A Writer’s Experience: Ongoing Worlds 9

So amidst the plethora of experiences I’ve had, and now as a tangent off of the running theme of my experiences – especially in regards to the lack of communication while there is a lack of contribution – the silver lining of the thundercloud that was brewing above my head was finally not a lightning bolt.

Let me back up a bit:

I found a new game on Ongoing Worlds based on the VERY popular BBC series Sherlock. This is a modern interpretation that stars Benedict Cumberpatch and Martin Freeman. These two have made big headlines recently in a variety of roles and this series has flourished. Both lead actors are committed to the series and have continued to fit in taping around their other projects. The series will go on to season four at some point in the future.

In the meantime, I found this delightful take on a fan-fic environment of this series, which promised to new cases from our favorite, high-functioning sociopath. I posed a character – the Martin Freeman/Doctor John Watson counterpart to the moderator of the story’s Sherlock Holmes. I was accepted and we started writing. Then, my worst fears – stagnation. After a while, I emailed the moderator. Did they mind if I continued to write, writing for Sherlock? (Point of fact here: It is common in the Ongoing Worlds stories to NOT take control of another member’s characters unless you have their approval to do so.) The moderator said they were fine with it.

Then… almost the worse thing happened. (Where the worst is when a story you are interested in just disappears.) MORE stagnation. BUT not the silver lining. The moderator posted on the main page that they would be willing to hand over the tale to me – YAY! I wish this would happen more often. Kudos to you Guinea Pig123! (Handle of the former moderator)

So, all said, here is a beginning to the newest Sherlock Case: Dead on Delivery

She sat in the room, the familiar wallpaper circling her. Sherlock watched her, while John took notes. “It… I…” she stuttered.
“It’s OK. Take all the time you need.” John reassured her.
“But we don’t have long.” added Sherlock, quickly.

The woman paused, took a deep breath in. “She just disappeared.”
“No. No she didn’t. Nobody just disappears. Describe everything that happened,” Sherlock retorted.
“There was a car…. Squealing brakes…..A scream,” she said with a horrified look of memory clouding her thoughts.
“Nope. Bored. Goodbye. John, get me another case. Mrs Hudson! Tea!” Sherlock demanded.
“Sherlock!” John announced.

The rain poured down the window. Sherlock stood there, watching it. “I need a case! John! John! Get me a case!”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I have one. Four murders, all left with a note left on the crime scene, signed “Nevermore,” John said.

Sherlock seemed intrigued. He grabbed his phone, furiously tapped away a bit, then walked over to the woman who was still in tears and awestruck. “Is this your daughter?” he asked showing her a picture on his phone.

“Uh, yes…” she replied, confused.

“This picture was taken 2 hours ago and posted to Facebook,” he said with disdain at the mention of the social media outlet. “It appears this was a ruse to go to ‘spring-break’ in Miami, over in the Colonies. The festivities should end this Saturday, your daughter will come home then with some outrageous tale which will clearly be a LIE. Now,” he said pointing to the door. The woman just rose dumbfounded and left. “Now John, you were saying,” Sherlock said with a grin, “FOUR murders?”

Watson noticed that old sociopathic gleam in his eye. “Yes. Four murders. Clearly none were accidents, they were all brutalized before their deaths. The only reason it didn’t catch our attention earlier was because different boroughs had the cases and weren’t sending the paperwork up the chain fast enough. Each victim was young, seemed fit, but has no record or prints in any of our systems – so says Lestrade anyway. Aside from the note, the only commonality is that each had a tattoo on their wrists. Each was beaten so badly, their illegible,” John said showing Sherlock a picture of one of them on his phone. “So. What do you think?”

“Yes.” said Sherlock
“Yes what?” John asked.

“I’ll take it. John, we leave… now. Get your coat.” He strode out the room. John sighed and shut the laptop.

Stay tuned for future installments of the tale, Dead on Delivery, or follow it more closely on Ongoing Worlds, or join in!